Discovering South Dakota’s natural, cultural, and quirky wonders

Taking the road less traveled often leads to wonderful rewards. When my guide in Badlands National Park turned off a 2-lane paved road onto a single-lane gravel road—one that caused our tiny van to rumble, veer, and skid—I held on to my seat in eager anticipation.

We were headed up Sheep Mountain Table, a backcountry setting in the park’s highest area. We passed only a few other vehicles on that bumpy journey, which foreshadowed a special (and uncrowded) spot.

The moment I set foot on the mountain, it was easy to understand—and feel—why the Badlands remain sacred to the Lakota, the Indigenous people who’ve called the region home for centuries. I sat quietly, embracing a beautiful silence punctuated only by the wind. I gazed out on an expansive valley of rocky formations and rolling prairie grass that seemed to stretch on for eternity in a soft palette of creams, pinks, purples, and greens.

The landscape inspired a stillness within me—along with some embarrassment.

Admittedly, I had up until that moment regarded South Dakota as flyover country, nothing more than the home of Mount Rushmore set amid flatland farms. Being a seasoned traveler who calls the Midwest home, I should have known better.

Fortunately, an invitation to attend my first Native American powwow in Rapid City was the catalyst for opening my eyes to the region’s wonders. I found Rapid City and its surrounding area to be a sink-into destination, rather than one to drive through—or fly over.

For me, the town’s most amusing attraction was the reason for its nickname: the City of Presidents. Life-size bronze statues of 43 former presidents decorate many downtown corners. I loved strolling the streets and comparing our heights, especially when my own nearly 6-foot frame towered over James Madison’s 5-foot-4-inch likeness.

Nearly 1,300 bison share Custer State Park—a 7,100-acre preserve in the Black Hills—with pronghorn antelope, elk, and mountain goats.

I spotted some wildlife while driving the 18-mile Wildlife Loop State Scenic Byway, but I wish that I had joined an organized Buffalo Safari Jeep Tour instead of going on my own. The bison were hiding from me that day; an experienced guide would have added color and context, and most importantly, would have known where to find the animals that eluded me.

Well-maintained roads made it easy to travel through the national forest. My jaw dropped as we drove Needles Highway, a 14-mile journey where massive granite pillars pierce the sky.

And Iron Mountain Road—with 314 curves, 14 switchbacks, and 3 mountain tunnels—forced a literal and figurative slowing down to enjoy the gorgeous wilderness hugging the route that links Custer State Park and Mount Rushmore National Memorial.

No trip to the Black Hills would be complete without spending time at Mount Rushmore and the region’s other world-renowned mountain sculpture, Crazy Horse Memorial. For me, one was a patriotic must-see, the other an eye-opening education.

At Mount Rushmore, I skipped the ranger-led programs and the Presidential Trail, which provides closer views of the colossal landmark sculpted from 1927 through 1941. Instead, I sat on a bench beneath the heads of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Theodore Roosevelt to snack and people watch. More than 2 million people tour the site annually, and I wanted to soak in the diversity of visitors paying homage.

The soundtrack to my visit was an intermingling of American accents and international languages.

One voice I won’t forget came from an elderly military veteran who sidled up next to me while I fixed my gaze on the peak. “It’s much more spectacular in person, isn’t it?” he said, his deep voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes. He told me that it was his first visit, and it was clearly an emotional one.

We both acknowledged the setting’s gravitas—something photos can’t capture. I stood beside him for a few minutes, and we marveled at the monument together in a shared, reverent silence, before he returned to his family.

Just 17 miles away, I admired a masterpiece in the making at Crazy Horse Memorial. Its origins can be traced to Chief Henry Standing Bear’s appeal to sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski, who worked briefly at Mount Rushmore, to create a monument for his people; construction began in 1948. Today it’s a symbol for all Native Americans, and if it is ever finished, it will be the world’s largest sculpture. Crazy Horse’s face was completed in 1998, and carving on his arms and mount continues.

The memorial is entirely privately funded so as to stay fully aligned to the mission without government influence, even if it means slower progress. The project has generated its share of mixed feelings, however, with questions about marring sacred land for a commercial endeavor.

The influence of western South Dakota’s Lakota population and its ties to the land weave their way into most experiences here. The Indian Museum of North America at Crazy Horse and the Journey Museum and Learning Center in Rapid City each illuminate Native American culture. I spent considerable time meandering through the exhibits at Crazy Horse, which include art and artifacts from more than 300 Native Nations.

I was most transfixed by the old photographs and paintings that showcased history and cultures that were, unfortunately, glossed over in my early education. In those artworks, I saw a mixture of bravery, beauty, and resilience alongside a sadness that so many Indigenous people experienced as they lost their tribal lands during American expansion. For me, it was educational—and unexpectedly emotional.

Stepping into the powwow environment was a full-on sensory experience, especially when observing the dances. I couldn’t look away from the kaleidoscope of colors and feathers. The jingling of beads and bells sewn into the dancers’ regalia intertwined with the beating of the drums, a loud yet meditative sound that filled every inch of space and penetrated my body. I couldn’t help moving to the beat, even in my seat.

As one of the Lakota class instructors offered: “You don’t need to be Lakota to enjoy and appreciate [a powwow]. It’s all medicine to help and heal.”

I really pined for my daughter, however, at Dinosaur Park. Situated in the middle of Rapid City on a sandstone ridge, the park boasts 7 life-size dinosaurs—her favorite animal. It’s an offbeat spot with 100-mile panoramic views.

While it wasn’t the spiritual setting I experienced in the Badlands, it did make me smile—who wouldn’t while standing beneath a cartoonishly grinning T. rex—and inspired my desire to return to Rapid City.

Erica Bray is a freelance writer from Highland Park, Illinois.